Monday, May 7, 2012

There are some days that are just magical.  Yesterday was one of those.  Not only was I able to spend the day/evening at the beach, a huge passion of mine, but also while there, I got to experience a wide spectrum of things I hadn’t expected, each outranking the other.

To me, there’s something hypnotic and magical about the ocean.  I’ve always been lulled by her immenseness and splendor.  The calming way her waves rush to the shore.  The hidden treasures of shells I find in her wake.  So for me, just having the chance to walk along the beach is a huge treat.  But yesterday, that privilege got enhanced. 

Walking to the end of one beach, I came across an estuary—a spot where fresh water converges with salt, allowing all sorts of interesting critters to dwell in the mix.  Along the edge of the estuary were posted signs, indicating which animals called that place home.  I found it entertaining to try to locate each and every one of them.  Managed to spot most.

Further along my walk, the explorer in me found an interesting challenge—a train trestle that would make possible my passage to a remote area of beach.  Looking in both directions and then feeling the rail ties to see if I could sense any vibrations, I decided to make my crossing at a good clip.  Course, the trestle was high above the estuary, and me, not being a fan of heights, ended up experiencing a weird sort of vertigo if I looked down or too far ahead.  So, I kept my eyes just ahead of my feet, doubled my pace and hoped I’d get across in one piece.

I did and was rewarded with a somewhat private beach on the other side that I had to get to by winding my way along a narrow pathway adorned with twists and turns not to mention the occasional fallen tree that I had to duck under or crawl over. 

Quite fun—really. 

Eventually, the pathway opened up to the expansive beach with a picture perfect sun bleached fallen tree that called out for me to sit upon it.  I did and watched the sun slide its way towards the horizon. 

I would have loved to have watched the setting sun from that vantage point, but the thought of having to re-cross the creepy train trestle in the dark was not appealing, so I made my way back to it and after ensuring myself that there was no train coming, made my crossing.  Less than five minutes after I finished, a passenger train came barreling along that same trestle, and I found myself giving thanks I wasn’t upon it at the time.

I walked a short distance down a pedestrian trail back to the beach where I found a large boulder to sit upon to enjoy the setting sun.  All around me, I was surrounded by others who had the same notion, to slow the world long enough to embrace one of Mother Nature’s greatest displays—a color-filled sunset.

Once the sun had sunk below the horizon, I remained for a short time to watch others go about their business.  Some walked away, others, like me, opted to remain.  All had the same calm energy surrounding them, no doubt brought on by having watched the beautiful sunset.

Deciding it was time to head back, I found my way back to the pedestrian pathway that paralleled the beach.  About a mile into my walk, I heard a sound from beside and below me that I couldn’t identify, though it’s magical notes called to me.  Leaning over a railing, I saw where I’d walked the beach earlier, no longer possible due to the rising tide.  And there, the mystery of the sound I’d heard was revealed.  After the waves rushed towards the shore and washed across a little uprising of smoothly polished boulders, each half and the full size of basketballs, the sound they made as the water receded was that of horse’s hooves, cascading rocks and the ocean’s waves all melded together.  The sound was more hypnotic than the waves alone and I found myself sitting on a bench for the next half hour appreciating what I’d never heard before but fell in love with instantly.

Finally, I stood and headed back to my awaiting car.  Along the pathway, I smiled at the geometrical towers of carefully stacked rocks others had made to enhance the scenery.  Each was unique in the way it was formed.  All seemed as if they’d been there forever, yet I knew that the rising surf would later topple them over.  But in the meantime, witnessing them made me happy.

By the time I climbed back in my car, I’d walked nearly seven miles, felt refreshed and utterly at peace.  Like I said, there are some days that are just magical….  : -)